


For whither thou goest, I will go

by OrangeLady



Category: Black Sails
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-05 12:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11013543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeLady/pseuds/OrangeLady
Summary: When Thomas is set free from Bedlam, he knows he has to see New Providence, the place that stole so much from him: his lovers, his family and his life.





	1. Chapter

_“No one can lose either the past or the future - how could anyone be deprived of what he does not possess? ... It is only the present moment of which either stands to be deprived: and if this is all he has, he cannot lose what he does not have.”_

— Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

 

**CHAPTER I   
** **ACROSS THE SEA**

Thomas had to see the island that had taken so much from him. New Providence Island had given him a reason to live, but had ultimately been his undoing. There had been word about a Lieutenant James McGraw sailing over seas to that destination, about the ship being boarded by pirates and him being murdered. His father had come to Bedlam and told him in person.

“Would you consider Captain Flint a man worthy of a pardon?” his father had asked. Thomas remembered so well that he had wished that they had left the manacles on for the visit; he did not trust himself to stay calm and still. And he struggled with the question. His malicious father had taken James from him a first time. The pirate had taken James from him a second, final time. Thomas had wished his father dead countless times. Was Captain Flint any better? Was he a man worthy of redemption?

Then his father and mother had attempted the journey over to New Providence too. Peter Ashe visited before leaving for the Carolinas and told him that they had gone missing. Their ship hadn’t arrived in port, and if it was bad weather or pirates that had sunk them nobody knew.

His father’s death ultimately led to his freedom. When the old warden who had the understanding with his father succumbed to the cancer, there were nobody who knew why he should be kept under lock and key, and if there was, there were no money to be gained from it.

Thomas knew where he was going even before he was set free from Bedlam. London seemed a dying animal to him, greying and putrid, and without any family, friends or lovers there was nothing that could keep him there for longer than necessary.

On the voyage over the Atlantic, he became sea sick. He had never been accustomed to the sea and it did not help that his constitution wasn’t what it had been. The seven years in confinement had withered his muscles, and he felt like an old man despite being only forty-five years of age. He found that being up on the deck helped with the nausea, and distracted him from darker thoughts. The fellow passengers, a young French couple bound for their uncle’s estate on Guadeloupe, did nothing to relieve him of neither. On deck, the crew largely ignored him, but the medic and a ship’s boy would sometimes sit and have a word with him. The medic, Mr. Hartmann, mostly annoyed him with administrations and advice about his ill health, but he tolerated it as the man would lend him books from his own ship’s library and had access to the books in the Captain’s cabin. On the other hand, the ship’s boy didn’t say much in the beginning of their acquaintance, and then spoke with such a heavy Irish accent that Thomas at first didn’t realize he was uttering proper words. It turned out that Daniel was fascinated with Thomas’ ample reading, as he himself never had learned how to do it. Thomas offered to teach him for the remainder of the journey, and the boy hesitantly agreed. He quietly wondered what his professors at Cambridge would say if they knew he used Hobbes’ Leviathan to teach the alphabet.

At night Thomas lay in his cot and had no escape from thoughts that inevitably would come climbing out of the darker corners of his mind. The cabin heaved and shook with the high waves, and his fellow passengers moaned in woe. He had begun to suspect that he wouldn’t reach the New World, that perhaps the _Elizabeth_ would sink from under him, and he would never set foot on New Providence. Maybe his health would fail him even further, or a band of pirates would find them. The spectacle of Captain Flint grew taller in the dark cabin. Maybe that man was responsible for the disappearance of his parents as well? It was an absurd thought, but he had trouble shaking it off. Perhaps, he thought, Captain Flint would be waiting for them in the West Indies, to strike down on them as soon as they arrived.

* * *

It came almost as a disappointment when they rode into the bay of Pointe-à-Pitre, safe and sound. He took a swift farewell of the young couple he had shared cabin with for the past month, and went exploring. Thomas spent the morning wandering up and down the streets of the small town. There were exotic birds calling from the treetops and a smell of orange flowers in the air. The town was small, with low wooden houses, but Thomas hadn’t exactly expected a European metropolis.

He bought fresh fruit from street vendors and tried to communicate as best he could with the ladies that sold them, with what little French he still knew. The Creole women were hearty, and smiled and laughed at his stilted attempts at enquiring about their businesses and families, and more than one took his pale hand in their dark and said _“Vous êtes blanc comme un spectre, monsieur”_. By eleven o’clock he reached a market place with vendors calling out their prices and wares. In some ways it was familiar and reminded him greatly of London. At a small stall at the outskirts of the square, he bought an indigo muslin scarf from a disinterested older man.

Thomas had planned to visit a church, or perhaps visit one of the prehistoric grave sites, but found that he was too fatigued from walking by noon. He might be out of Bedlam, but the place still inhibited his body and mind. He despised it with a passion, but wasn’t able to get over it so easily. So he wandered down to the docks, and found himself on a long boat back to the _Elizabeth_.

It was strange that he would first feel like a free man, in such a place, so far from England, months after receiving his factual freedom. He had wandered freely in a town where no one knew who he was or would pass judgement. The _Elizabeth_ had taken on new passengers for the final trip to New Providence, but they had chosen the cheaper alternative of lodging under deck with the rest of the crew. Thomas wouldn’t say he missed company, but it was eerie to be alone for the first time in months.


	2. Chapter 2

** CHAPTER II  
** **NASSAU**

The voyage from there on became more interesting. The dolphins that he had sometimes spotted at the open seas became a daily occurrence. Sometimes, when Thomas leaned over the railing, he could even see the shadows of sharks, circling under the surface. James had described it to him when he had returned that last time from the Caribbean, which made his fascination more than a tad bittersweet. The _Elizabeth_ passed other ships and islands that seemed to grow in size the farther they went. Land and proof of civilisation were sore sights.

They reached New Providence in the evening, without issue. Despite most of the crew taking the longboats to stay in town for the night, Thomas decided to stay at the ship. He felt the need to pack what few possessions he had, and to prepare himself before stepping ashore, physically as well as spiritually.

Thomas asked Mr Hartmann to cut his hair. He hadn’t worn a wig for almost eight years, which he didn’t miss at all, and in Bedlam they hadn’t much cared for appearances. Thomas hadn’t either since he was released, and now his hair hung long and limp from his head. In London it hadn’t troubled him, but in the humid heat of the tropics it was not to be endured. Mr Hartmann suggested he could simply tie it up, but Thomas wouldn’t settle for anything but a close crop. When it was done, the medic melted out of the cabin, eager to join his shipmates on ashore.

Alone in the cabin again, Thomas felt the need to go over his plans one last time. He had enough resources to last him at least four months of sparse living, but beyond that he would have to find employ. What work he would do was still a mystery. He was trained as a legislator and mediator, which he knew that Nassau needed, but at the moment had no station for. He could be a teacher for the children of Nassau, he mused; he had always liked children. Or perhaps he could put his knowledge of mathematics and economy to use and manage the accounts of some trading company. Well, in time he would have to find out. 

* * *

In the morning, he took his bags and bade farewell to the _Elizabeth_. Daniel, the ship’s boy, accompanied him onto the longboat, and to Thomas surprise cautiously followed him on his search for a suitable inn to stay at until he could find better lodgings. While glad to have company for a little while longer, he had fully expected them to part ways as soon as they came ashore. He was sure that Daniel would have his own businesses to take care of and was quite surprised when the boy trailed behind him as they made their way from the beach up through town.

“Why are you still here?” Thomas asked amiably.

Daniel’s ears grew red and his voice jumped up and down an octave as he spoke. “Captain tol’ me ter keep yer company,” he said. “He said a fine gentleman wouldn’t know the dangers o’ the streets.”

Thomas thanked him sincerely and smiled. It was true that he didn’t know the ongoings on the streets of Nassau, but he was by no means a naïve little lamb. He had, after all, grown up in London, and his lengthy stay at Bedlam certainly hadn’t made him too trusting and kind. He didn’t even have anything of much value. Sure, he had a bit of money that would last him a little while, but that, he reasoned, could always be made back in one way or the other. The only things he would properly miss were his books, and for some reason he believed that pickpockets and thieves wouldn’t have much interest in heavy tomes on economy, law and politics.

Daniel led him to an inn that seemed comparatively cleaner and nicer than the ones they had passed as they had entered the town. It was hardly respectable by British terms, but there was some order to the men drinking and gambling in the establishment’s first floor. The black innkeeper that Thomas haggled the price with was even surprisingly polite. His facial scars and tough demeanour made Thomas wary at first, but he could tell that he was indeed a gentleman.

Thomas left his bags in the room, locked the door with utmost care, and then went about exploring the town. If he was to stay there for an indefinite time, it would be for the best to get to know it as soon as possible. The faithful Daniel never left his side during his wandering, but not once mustered the courage to speak to Thomas unless spoken to first.

Nassau was wilder than Guadeloupe, but by no means the bandits’ lair England had made it out to be. There were more scantily clad prostitutes standing at the street corners, and most men on the streets were more rugged, but that seemed to be the only differences at first glance. Thomas was torn. He saw Nassau as a fledgling attempt at society, a wild place trying it’s best at civilization, the place he had studied and tried to build an idealistic utopia on. But he also saw it as the home of Captain Flint. This place had created that monster and nurtured him.

Walking the streets of Nassau was an overwhelming experience, and Thomas was quietly grateful for having Daniel as company. Not that he felt unsafe, but it was indeed comforting to have a familiar face close by. The town was a labyrinth of mismatched houses, in all sorts of designs, colours and degrees of disrepair. The same could be said of the people. Thomas tried not to stare. In the corner of his eye he saw a man with shorn head and a red beard. There was a painful flash of recognition, but when Thomas turned to look for him, the man was gone.

“What is it, sir?” Daniel asked and gripped his elbow.

“Oh, nothing. I… I thought I saw someone I knew once.” Thomas cleared his throat and tried to smile. “I was mistaken. How silly of me.”

* * *

 Tired and dusty, with his bag full of the exotic fruit and dried fish he intended to have for supper, he returned to the inn at the end of the day. It took some conviction to shoo Daniel away, but finally he trudged off, to wherever sixteen-year olds go in pirate colonies.

The black innkeeper greeted him back and handed him the keys to his room without needing to be asked. The man badly concealed the stare he gave Thomas’s outreached hand. Thomas quickly pulled the sleeve down to cover the scars from both manacles and his failed attempt at suicide.

“You have a good night, sir,” the innkeeper said and nodded. Thomas got the feeling that the man had seen and understood more in that instant than anyone he had ever encountered. He felt strangely exposed, and fled upstairs.

It was surreal to have a room and bed of his own, and now also without the rolling waves as company. Although the street outside seemed to become louder the longer the night went on, a humid calm inhabited the room with him. Thomas opened the shutters and leaned on the windowsill, watching the street below for the longest of time.

He thought of Miranda and what clever jest she would have comforted him with, and he cried for the first time since he had regained his freedom.

Miranda would have liked it here, Thomas thought, although he had trouble picturing her walking at his side through Nassau town.

Seeing New Providence with his own two eyes made the New World pirates more human, even the dreaded Captain Flint. Thomas had expected that this would soften his beliefs about him, but it didn’t. A monster must do what evil it is created to do, but a man always has the choice to be good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for your lovely comments! It means so much to me to get to know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

** CHAPTER III   
** **PROPOSALS**

Daniel returned to the inn the next morning. Thomas found him waiting by the bottom of the rickety staircase when he came down to have breakfast. The boy had a sack thrown over his shoulder and a determined frown on his face.

“Shouldn’t you be back on the _Elizabeth_? They must be getting ready to leave by now,” Thomas remarked. The boy looked even grimmer at that and clutched his whitening hands into fists.

“Sir, I was wondering if you’d employ me,” he yelled. “I got no fam’ly waiting back home, and besides I don’t much like being on a ship. I could wash yer clothes, an’ cook, an’…”

“I would gladly have you as company or in my employ, Daniel,” Thomas interjected. “But I can hardly pay you as well as Captain Jones. For the present I can’t give you much more than a roof over your head and a bit of food.”

Thomas didn’t know if dislike for the life at the sea was Daniel’s true reason for staying ashore, or if it was an ill hidden fascination for one of the world’s most famous pirate dens. But one thing he knew: it was not his place to decide anything for the boy. If he wanted to stay, so he should.

“I don’t mind, sir,” Daniel said and smiled a little. “Maybe… maybe you could keep teaching me to read proper?”

* * *

Thomas managed to sequester a table for himself and Daniel in the tavern’s atrium before the early drinkers and gamblers began to stumble into the establishment. There he spent the morning, pouring over his books. He occupied the boy by setting him to the task of writing all the letters of alphabet on a piece of paper with a pencil until he could get the shapes of them right.

Thomas’ first task was to draw up a new budget for the foreseeable future, to make his precious resources last for as long as possible. With Daniel as company, it would be for a shorter time than expected, no matter if the boy promised to work hard for it. They would rent a small house, he decided, either in the interior or at the outskirts of Nassau town. His nerves needed peace and quiet, but to sustain that he also needed a steady income. Daniel could always go back to sea once the life on land grew too dull and meagre for him. Serving on pirate ship could even gain him more salary than on the _Elizabeth_ , if he thought the risks were worth it. But Thomas knew nothing of that kind of work, and would hardly have the grit for it.

Which brought him to the day’s second task. He had taken with him from London a small collection of books on economics that would surely come in handy. The subject had hardly been his forte at Cambridge, but he knew enough to balance books and calculate the best ways to profits, and was by no means a bad negotiator. Perhaps he was too timid for the hardships of Nassau, but he figured that the farmers of the interior couldn’t possibly be as rough-hewn and could make use of his services in some capacity. It was in fact a thrilling prospect to get to apply all the theoretic knowledge he had gained in his past life on something practical and helpful.

He thought about what could have been, should old plans have come to life. Thomas tried to imagine himself as the governor of New Providence and failed. Miranda would have made for a fantastical governor’s wife, and James would no doubt be perfectly cut out to be his second, his right hand man. But himself, as the steadfast and unafraid leader and reformer of Nassau? He could hardly walk the streets of the town without getting flustered. How naïve and pretentious he had been! How could he even have thought to impose himself as the governor of this place was now well beyond him.

A young woman sat down across the table uninvited which tore him from his thoughts. She sized him up from head to toe, and Thomas felt absolutely transparent under the scrutiny of her striking blue eyes. While the woman was dressed in a red muslin dress and had her blonde hair braided into a stylish crown, she looked wild and almost boyish. He had seen her the day before, making rounds in the tavern and pouring beer. Perhaps she was taking a break from serving patrons, he thought.

“What are you reading?” she asked. Her voice was commanding, and so he obeyed.

“ _The Basics of Economy_ , volume two. I am dusting off what little knowledge I still have of the art,” said Thomas and smiled. “It’s an attempt to make myself useful.”

“I’m sorry for interrupting your studies, mister. I was curious — you don’t look like the typical customer in this place.”

Thomas looked up from his book. “Neither do you, madam.”

“So are you any good at it?” she asked. Before Thomas could utter a word in response, the woman had snatched his budget document from under the book, and was eyeing it through, despite his meek protests. “Good enough it seems.” She glanced up at him. “How would you like working for me?”

“Do you need help with your household economy, madam?” Thomas asked hopefully.

“The household funds are the least of my problem,” she said and grimaced. “If you already have work, I’m sure we can arrange something.”

“So I understand you have a business?”

The woman laughed. “You could say that. My name is Eleanor Guthrie, and this is my tavern, in case you wondered,” she said. “In all honesty, I have enough people to keep our accounts in check, but the trouble is that I don’t trust them as far as I could throw an apple. Loyalty is hard to buy. What I need is an honest man with enough skills to do the work himself, in case it is needed.”

“Thank you for the offer. But I hardly think that you would need more than one accountant for managing this tavern, madam.”

“This fine establishment is only the proverbial tip of the iceberg.” The woman laughed again. “You must be new to Nassau. I forget, did I ask for your name?”

“My name is Thomas, madam. And you are right, I only arrived here yesterday.”

“And do you have a last name to go with that?”

He had not thought this far yet, but now it was obvious that he couldn’t go by Hamilton. The Hamiltons of Ashebourne were all dead and buried, at sea or in Bedlam. But the lie came easily. Or a wish, rather.

“McGraw.”

To his surprise, the woman looked suspiciously at him, as if she had caught his falsehood, but she said nothing of it. “How about a trial, Thomas McGraw? You can go through last month’s books and tell me what you think. If I like what you have to say, I might keep you.”

“I’d be honoured to be considered, madam Guthrie.”

The woman rapped the table twice with her knuckles and went on her way without looking back once. Thomas could hardly believe what had happened. He had anticipated some resistance in his search for employ, and here on his first day it was thrust upon him, and by a young lady none the less. He had to put down the pen, in fear that his shaking hand would make a mess of the pages.

“Well, Daniel,” Thomas said and turned towards the boy who had remained silent during the entire exchange. “Things are looking up already, wouldn’t you say?” Daniel smiled back, nervously.


	4. Chapter 4

** CHAPTER IV   
** **THE TRIAL**

The books were delivered to their room in a crate that same evening. Thomas put the sealed wooden box in the middle of the room and contemplated it before prying off the lid. It was surely a Pandora’s box; who knew what secrets there were to uncover. Could Thomas handle the work at all, and what that would mean for his future in Nassau.

There were more documents than Thomas ever could have expected, and once he opened the first ledger, it was obvious that Eleanor Guthrie wasn’t just a brash tavern keeper, but also ran a good sized trading corporation, and a failing one at that. There was no particular order of the documents and at least six different handwritings, none of which were easily legible. It was clear that at least one of his fellow accountants were either skimming off the profits for themselves or were too incompetent at their jobs to properly calculate what was really owed by the traders. Some of the discrepancies were subtler, but even to an unexperienced eye they was quite obvious.

“Daniel, could you get some dinner food for us? I believe I won’t be leaving the room for a few days.”

The boy shone at the opportunity to be useful. “Of course, sir!”

“Oh, and could you also get me one very large notebook.” Thomas gave him a handful of coins, and Daniel leapt off like a rabbit, happy to venture out into the daylight.

Keeping long hours bent over a desk was something Thomas had been much accustomed to, and now he found how much he had missed it. How he had missed putting his brain to work and be useful for himself and others!

At Bedlam there had been nothing for him to do. Sometimes he even prefered the treatments, horrific as they were, to his isolation as they broke the monotony and were the most effective distractions. Thomas had feared his mind would atrophy from disuse, but he had also taken care to not delve too much into his memories and fantasies. It beckoned him at times, to revisit all that had been and all that could have been in a kinder world. But he had witnessed many of his fellow prisoners getting lost in their own heads. The last thing Thomas had wanted for himself was to become properly insane, as insane as everybody assumed he already was.

Once Daniel returned from the market with their haul, Thomas set to work with the little archive. As he didn’t know how much time Miss Guthrie’s trial consisted of, his ambition was to get as much work done as possible as soon as possible. Daniel watched his progress quietly but with an obviously great interest for the better part of an hour, before he retreated to the armchair and continued with the writing excersises that Thomas had given him earlier.

It was, in a sense, a simple task to find errors in the papers, and then link them, correct them, or mark them as questionable. It seemed that he had understated his skills in practical economics. Complex theories based on national economy would have to wait for another occasion. This was work he could do. 

* * *

When he next looked up from his work, it was already close to dawn. The night dark in the chamber had shifted from pitch black to a soft grey. Daniel hadn’t moved from his seat in the armchair, but had slumped over, sleeping with quill in one hand and a paper in the other. Thomas carefully relieved him of both and took a moment to admire the spindly letters that spelled out the name _Daniel Patrick Brown_ over and over.

Thomas made an effort to be silent as he dug through his luggage after his pipe, as not to wake the boy. He didn’t make it a habit to smoke per se, but ever since his years at university the early hours in the morning after a long night of work made him crave it.

Miranda had hated the smell of tobacco with a passion. But James had often stolen the pipe from his hand. Even before they were… Thomas had treasured those moments even then, before they became lovers, and before their lives fell to pieces. Moments just like these, when after many hours of work they would open the library windows to watch the mists of dawn creep over the gardens and smoke in shared silence. They hadn’t really touched since that first handshake, but in those moments their fingertips would briefly meet when they passed the pipe between them and their shoulders pressed together. Every touch had been electric. How he had wanted to kiss him then, to melt into the other man. But he couldn’t, and so he didn’t. Not until later.

Now Thomas smoked alone, with only memories for company.  

* * *

There was a knock on the door. Thomas was busy approximating what fifty-six casks of whale oil really should sell for, and assumed that the knock either was for the room next-door, or that whoever it was would go away momentarily. He had not expected the door to be unlocked and his visitor to enter by herself. Miss Guthrie stepped over the neatly organized piles of paper that Thomas had placed on the floor.

“Mr McGraw, it has been three days. I thought you would be finished by now.” Thomas exchanged a look with Daniel across the room that seemed to say that they both had completely lost track of the time. They were both in a frightful state, with untucked shirts, messy hair and ink blots all over.

“Madam, I’m hardly through the top half of the crate you sent me.”

Miss Guthrie seemed to have a bad habit of reading private writings, for she stole the notebook out of Thomas’ hands and started thumbing through it.

“In situations like this, I find it best to err on the side of caution, madam. I might not have gone through all the material yet, but what I have done, I have done with utmost care,” said Thomas and smiled. “I was afraid that my knowledge of economics would be too inferior to be of help to you, but those doubts live no longer.”

A grim frown settled on Miss Guthrie’s face. It was at that moment that Thomas began to truly understand that he was looking at a younger and wilder Helen of Troy, a woman that could wreak havoc among men and start wars with just a look.

“It appears that I was right to not trust my own men,” she said. “How about you start tomorrow? You will have six pounds a week, and if you prove to be trustworthy there will be a possibility to renegotiate. You’ll have an office by the docks, and I expect to see you there every day but Sundays. If you wish to continue your stay at the tavern, I could give you a discount.”

The offered salary was about twice what Thomas had expected. After studying the books, it was quite clear that the company didn’t operate within the strict confines of British law and could potentially make a larger profit from it. But he hadn’t expected that the wealth would be distributed even to its lowest employees. Miss Guthrie extended her hand and Thomas shook it.

“I’m happy to accept your offer, madam. It is most kind of you,” said Thomas. “But I would like to find other accommodations as quickly as possible. You remarked that I am not your typical patron, and I can assure you that I am not. You wouldn’t know of any small houses for rent?”

“You are most welcome. And you must stop calling me ‘madam’,” she said. “I will ask around for you, if you wish. You must have dinner with me tonight. I will tell you about your duties, and you will go through what financial mishaps you have found in my ledgers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all very much for your lovely comments! It means so much to me to know what you think and like about this story!


	5. Chapter 5

** CHAPTER V  
** **SUPPER**

Thomas donned the most decent clothes he possessed. Undyed linen trousers, waistcoat and a simple coat, and a white muslin shirt. He tried on the indigo scarf from Guadeloupe, but decided against it. The inhabitants of Nassau didn’t seem very preoccupied with proper dress. He had even seen ladies wearing men’s trousers in the street. Perhaps it was time for him to blend in. Anything but wandering around in only his breeches would be acceptable, it seemed. Thomas felt brave and undid the top button of his shirt.

“Will this do, Daniel?”

The boy looked up at him from his papers with an equal mix of disbelief and disinterest, and then shrugged.

Thomas inspected himself in the spotted mirror over the bureau. The difference was total from how he had looked in his previous life. He doubted that even his father would have recognized him at first glance. It wasn’t only the lack of wig or that he never before had he been so thin. The latter did play a part, but now with a few days of decent food and a fair bit of sunlight, he didn’t look like he had one foot in the grave. Some things had been forced out of him: his youth, his innocence. The constant smile that he had always had to tamper down was gone and had left lines his face. Sooner or later he would have to find his way back to that state of content, or he knew his soul would be hopeless. He tried smiling at himself in the mirror and although it didn’t quite reach his eyes, it would fool others.

He waited by the bar downstairs until Miss Guthrie found him and escorted him up to her rooms. The meal was already set out on a table. Miss Guthrie bade him to sit and poured the wine. It was a long time since Thomas had properly dined with anybody, and even longer since that somebody was a woman. He wondered what Miranda would have thought, but realized that she probably would have kicked his shins and told him to stop thinking and be more entertaining for his host.

“So, I’ll cut to the chase. Your work will consist in receiving the receipts from the business, both income and debts, and organizing them and calculating the results. Sometimes you might have to step in and negotiate with traders. I will also need you to go back through the records and see what needs to be… corrected. It will be hard work for one man.”

Thomas inhaled the sip of water he had just intended to swallow. “Excuse me, but I thought you said you had others in your employ for this task?”

“Oh, I did until this afternoon. You will come to understand that if you break my trust, it is gone for ever,” she said and took a swig of wine. “But I do understand if you’d wish to take an assistant. I will have to vet him first though. Thoroughly.”

Thomas tried to not look as nervous as he felt, and picked up a little green fruit from his plate and cut into it to reveal bright pink pulp. He bit into the sweet fruit and gave himself a moment to compose himself.

“Thank you, Miss Guthrie. I will assess the need for assistance. I do in fact already have someone in mind should it come to that. I can swear by his trustworthiness, and I am teaching him to read and count myself,” said Thomas. “I was looking forward to having some colleagues ease me into the work, as I’m quite new to both the job and the island. Are none of the accountants left in your employ?”

“I would think it’s for the best you get a clean start,” said Miss Guthrie. Thomas heard the steel in her voice and knew better than to argue. “I will escort you to the offices in the morning. I will show you around; show you the ropes, as it were. I have also found a house for you. I can have Mr Scott show you tonight, if you wish.”

“Thank you, I’m looking forward to it.”

They exchanged smiles, and then the dinner continued in relative silence. Miss Guthrie politely asked about how his travel from overseas had gone, and Thomas inquired about the exotic fruits on their plates that he hadn’t had the pleasure of encountering before. Another thought itched on his tongue, and Thomas knew that he’d have to say it sooner or later and be done with it. He knew that Miranda would have kicked his shins again for this, but he couldn’t help himself.

“I think I can see what you are trying to accomplish with your company, Miss Guthrie, and I admire it greatly.” It was a gamble, of course. Perhaps the woman was perfectly aware of the implications of her venture, but there was a good chance that the big picture, so to speak, had not been thought of at all.

“And what would that be, if I may ask?” Miss Guthrie’s voice was almost as harsh as her stare.

“Nassau needs stability if it is to survive. It needs a proper society, with solid institutions and decreasing violence. Your enterprise organizes the market for honest merchants as well as pirates. While it is still arguably criminal, I would say that it is a step in the right direction. Vast changes can’t happen over night. Given time, I am willing to bet you’ll be able to diminish the criminal element. Proving a will to follow the law and a solid society is how you will force Britain to acknowledge Nassau.”

The room fell silent. Miss Guthrie leaned back in her chair and scrutinized him with a grimness he hadn’t yet seen in her. Thomas was just about to beg his forgiveness for speaking out of turn when the woman chuckled.

“You sound like a friend of mine. And thank you. I can see that we share a mind concerning the future of this place. I’m sure I’ll enjoy hearing more of your thoughts on the matter,” said Miss Guthrie and smiled a genuine smile. “I would however recommend keeping from discussing these subjects too openly. Speaking about abiding the law and the Great Britain is a sure way to get stabbed.” 

* * *

Miss Guthrie sent the black innkeeper to show them the prospective house when their dinner was over. The man presented himself as Mr. Scott, and Thomas was happy to be properly introduced to him. They spoke about this and that as they walked through the town, with Daniel quietly following by Thomas’ side. Both of them skirted any subject that would lead them onto the topic of Thomas’ past and what had lead him to come to New Providence, although Thomas thought he detected a great curiosity about it. Mr. Scott pointed out the best places to buy fish and bread, and described where to go to have the best chance of finding a book salesman.

In the warm dusk the town was doused in a pinkish light. The citizens of Nassau seemed to move as in slumber. Most respectable businesses had just closed for the day and the more salacious ones had just opened, but the sailors weren’t yet too drunk. Thomas and Daniel were lead by Mr. Scott through the main streets and off into a narrow alley. The noises died away and were replaced with the songs of night birds and cicadas.

Finally they arrived at their destination. It was a narrow two-story house. The landlord, a dark-skinned old lady, opened the door to them and lead them into a small yard with a roof of pink bougainvillea and an armada of chickens ambling around their feet. They were to look at the rooms on the second floor of the building.

The apartment was perfect. It was small and quite worn, but clean with whitewashed walls and all the necessary furnishings. There was a larger room with windows towards the street. In one corner was a small kitchen with cupboards and a fireplace. Thomas had not cooked a single meal in his life, but now he figured he would have plenty of opportunities to try it out. To the west was an adjoining room with a bed and a desk. It was in truth all that Thomas had hoped for. There was even a small room that probably had been a storage area of some sort that would just about fit a narrow cot and a chest.

“Rent’s due every Friday. You’ll find the well in the yard,” the landlady filled in. “The outhouse too.”

Thomas agreed and shook the little lady’s hand immediately. They weren’t going to find a better place, even if they looked. The woman gave him a set of keys, made him swear on Jesus Christ to not lose them and to not bring too many prostitutes around, and then limped out of sight.

Thomas turned towards Daniel and smiled apologetically at the boy.

“I’m afraid that your room will have to be a very small one. And you’ll have to either use your hammock until we can find you a bed of your own.” The boy looked as if he was close to tears. “What is it, dear boy?”

“I haven’t had a room before, sir.” 

“Well, I am asking you to work for me and be at my side all day long. I draw the line at sharing a bedroom with you too. A man needs some privacy. Now, go back to Guthrie's and make sure that our belongings find their way here.”

* * *

Before Mr. Scott left, he motioned Thomas to join him out in the yard. Darkness had fallen under the flowering bougainvillea, and Thomas could just about make out the features of the other man’s face. He spoke in a hushed tone.

“I hesitate to ask, sir, but do you carry any kind of weapon?”

“No, I don’t,” said Thomas and shook his head. He did not like the idea of weapons.

“As I suspected. Then you would better take this and keep it on your person at all times,” Mr. Scott said and handed him a bundle of cloth. Thomas unfolded it and found a neat and simple dagger. “It is not much, but it is something. You should practice with it. Regrettably, you will sooner or later have to make use of it. You have taken a risky job in a dangerous place, sir.”

Thomas thanked him, and with a nod and a turn, he was alone.

He turned the dagger over in his hand and thought about the last time anyone had suggested he wielded a blade. Perhaps it was the sweet smell of the flowers that made him remember it. James had nagged him into being his sparring partner and had all but physically dragged him out into a remote corner of Ashbourne’s garden. Thomas had lost every single round to his skilled friend. There was no mercy until he had been wrestled down onto the lawn, lying flat on his back with James locking him in place with his body. They had both been filthy with sweat in the summer sun. Thomas had submitted with joy. How far away it seemed now.


	6. Chapter 6

** CHAPTER VI  
** **THE MAN FROM THE WALRUS**

True to her word Miss Guthrie showed up at their doorstep when the bells rung eight the following morning, and led them to their new office. The town was still in the process of waking up, and so they were almost alone on their trek down to the harbour.

The building had an outer shell with an open structure where barrels and crates were temporarily stored before they could be obtained by a trader due north or south to either of the Americas. Inside were some rooms for storing more valuable goods, and the small workroom that would become his. The rooms were sparse and made for a single purpose, but Thomas suspected he would quickly feel very much at home. 

* * *

Routine came quickly. Thomas hadn’t realized how much he had missed it until he had it again. Work was a solace he hadn’t had since before his stay at Bedlam.

He began to work that day, and didn’t stop save for Sundays. Every Saturday evening he and Miss Guthrie would have a meeting to sum up the week, to prepare for what the coming six days might have to offer and to share a few glasses of port and some hearty discourse.

Miss Guthrie had been right in telling him it would be hard work. He was scheduled to mind the current businesses during day, but he still had to make time to go over the old ledgers and see what was owed. She had been quite adamant about finding out which of her old accountants had stolen, and how much. The answer was at its core quite simple: they had all stolen, and it was rather large sums at that. Thomas thought his predecessors brave but incredibly stupid men. He didn’t know exactly what kind of punishment a place like Nassau would exact on thieves, but he could very easily imagine.

Daniel came to be of immense help. His most important task, aside from bringing them food and making tea, became taking the written receipts and organize them in the correct order. But with his increasing skill in writing, he soon took on the task of transcribing for the men who did their business by word of mouth by Mr Scott’s side, and even calculating smaller sums here and there.

It became more than clear that Miss Guthrie was a trade focal point on Nassau. There were hardly any ships that docked in the harbour that didn’t make use of the company’s services. And all of them came to Thomas’ doorstep. He learned very quickly to not judge criminals any harsher than their legitimate counterparts. There were a handful of pirate crews that rarely if at all spilled blood to obtain wares, as well as lawful traders engaging in the most horrendous slave trades. His stomach turned every time he saw the men, women and children in chains, having an inkling how it felt to wear them himself. 

* * *

One morning when Thomas and Daniel arrived at the office, there was already a man waiting for them, sitting at the steps by the door. While the populace of Nassau held the most outlandish hours, early mornings weren’t so common.

The man rose when he saw them approach. He had a head full of short blond hair and was even taller than Thomas himself. It was obvious from his clothing that he belonged to a pirate crew, but for a pirate he was uncommonly clean and neatly dressed.

“Are you the new number’s man for Miss Guthrie?” the man asked, with a clear London accent.

“Yes sir. I’m Thomas McGraw, and this is my assistant Daniel Brown,” he said and reached out his hand. The man shook it, but gave him an odd look, much like Miss Guthrie had at their first introduction. “Do you have business with me?”

“Yes, sir. I’m Billy Bones, from the _Walrus_. Captain Flint said to bring you this.” He handed Thomas a thick roll of papers sealed with wax and the Guthrie stamp. “Miss Guthrie has already taken care of the transport and resale, and these should be all of the receipts.”

Thomas broke the seal and leafed through the paper sheets with trembling hands. Flint had been an abstract horror until that moment, when Thomas got the first physical proof that he indeed was a man. He had in his hands papers that had been held and signed by the man who most likely had killed his lover, father and mother.

“I trust everything is all right,” said Billy Bones with a certain amount of hesitation. “I’ll send the men over with the crates as soon as they’re on their feet. If I were you, I wouldn’t expect us before noon. Have a good morning, sir.”

Thomas was shaken. He had not had business with Flint’s crew before, but he had not expected that he would have men like Billy Bones. Was this the day when he would have to face Flint?

“Sir, are you well?” said Daniel as he gripped his elbow. Thomas nodded, but the boy didn’t give it much credence. “You better go sit down inside sir, an’ I’ll make us some tea, yeah?” 

* * *

Thomas found it hard to focus on the work that morning as he found himself always glancing out over the yard and the street. Noon came along with the men from the _Walrus_ and their already sold cargo. Billy Bones nodded politely at him from a distance and kept peeking curiously at him, but didn’t approach.

Thomas soon realized that he was waiting for the dreaded Captain Flint to show up. He half expected a deep shadow to fall upon the yard and the man to appear from the darkness. But Billy Bones and the men from the _Walrus_ came and went, and as the afternoon turned into evening, he realized how foolish he was.

He had no idea what Flint even looked like. He could have been in the yard carrying crates all afternoon, and Thomas wouldn’t have realized it. He could have passed him in the street a dozen times without ever knowing. A deep disgust welled up in Thomas’ soul that he and Flint, the monster, would at that moment stand on the same earth and breathe the same air.


	7. Chapter 7

** CHAPTER VII  
** **L'URCA DE LIMA**

Thomas went drinking that evening. It was more of a mission than it was for his own enjoyment. He had decided that he needed to get a better feel for the people of Nassau and maybe learn to recognize a few more faces. That the alcohol would medicate away the worst of his worries for a night was only a happy side effect. By the harbour office, everybody was on their best behaviour and hesitated to gossip about their own or other crews, in fear of causing trade sanctions, but in the taverns it was another thing entirely.

After some underhanded finesse, Thomas managed to ditch Daniel and find his way to a lonely corner table at Miss Guthrie’s tavern. Come night time it was by no means an orderly place, but definitely more orderly than most other establishments in Nassau. Yet Thomas felt safe in the anonymity that the semi-darkness in his corner granted him. The beer wasn’t remotely good, but it was cheap and strong. Someone on the street outside played jigs on an untuned fiddle, which could just be heard over the drunken babble.

A one-legged man sat in the midst of a group of pirates, telling tall tales for anyone who would listen. He spoke with great animation and gestured widely to illustrate his words.

“You lot have heard of the mutiny during the debacle of _L’Urca de Lima_?” the man asked rhetorically and the men nodded. “We were stranded after the battle with the _Revenge_ , well before we had taken her for ourselves of course. The captain was half drowned and unconscious on the beach along the rest of us, and I, his dearest and only friend at that moment, had to fend for our lives.”

Thomas listened harder. He had heard mentions of the Spanish ship and the treasure, but never the entire story that surrounded it.

“So I ran off as quickly as I bloody well could. No sane man would go up against a crew that savage, right?” The men around him laughed heartily. “They were at my heels and closing in, the whole time. I leapt like a fucking rabbit, but I was caught in the end. But not before I stumbled upon the beach where _L’Urca de Lima_ had stranded with all the gold. Now this changed everything. And this is when our dear captain pleased to wake up. You can imagine exactly how ornery he was, considering that they not only had mutinied in the heat of battle, but also scrapped his ship and — shot him. Even in that state, without the use of his arm and thoroughly beaten down, he still manages to come up with a crack plan. Not to try to take the gold, or sneak off to save our lives. No, two men should just swim out to the _Revenge_ and take it. Of course, he would be one of those men. As I said before, at that point I was his one and only friend on that beach. So I volunteered to be the second man. We set off towards the water, and the minute we are alone he turns and says to me,” The one-legged man paused to drink, and then spoke with a deep, severe voice. “ _’The fuck did you do that for? I needed a real fighter.’_ ” The men laughed even harder at that. The one-legged man’s smile turned serious as he continued.

“The captain was severely injured, and about to swim a good distance and then take over a Man’O’War. We were facing certain death. I tried to talk us out of the whole ordeal. But the man just gave me a look, and I knew there was nothing I could do to convince him otherwise. He’s a force of nature, so all I could do was to follow him into the surf.”

“I can tell you, we got a fair bit into our plan to take the Man’O’War before they caught us. They tried to play us against each other, torture and all that, and you know how well I handle pressure.” The men laughed again. “I ratted us all out before they could even think ‘thumbscrew’. And still that look from the captain. The whole world against him, he was tied to a fucking chair, and he would still be fighting to his death for what he believed was the right thing. We could all learn from that.”

The pirate held up his mug for a toast. “Say what you will about captain Flint, but he is a man of principle, and although we have our disagreements, we should all be proud to serve with such a man.”

Thomas froze as he heard the name. The story continued, but from then on it became hard for him to take in the words.

Once the tale was over, the men that had gathered spread out, finding their own tables and companions to drink with. Thomas watched the storyteller as he poured himself a drink. He flinched as the man in question met his eyes and winked. His lively smiling demeanour from earlier had been replaced with a reserved, calculating mask. Thomas felt as if he suddenly was in the unblinking focus of a venomous snake.

“Say, do I know you from somewhere?” the pirate asked.

Thomas shook his head, regretting getting caught looking. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, you are Miss Guthrie’s newest addition, are you not?” the man replied and leaned forward towards Thomas. His eyes shone in the dark. There was something unsettling about the man, an intrusiveness that made Thomas think he knew more than he should.

Then a hand gripped Thomas’ shoulder from behind; he twitched in shock and glanced upwards. “Yes, he is,” said Eleanor Guthrie from where she had sneaked up on them. “And I’m here to save him from you.” 

* * *

Thomas had never been so grateful to be dragged away by a lady, and once they had reached the safety of her office, he collapsed onto the sofa. There was something about Miss Eleanor’s office that he enjoyed thoroughly: every piece of furniture were practical and yet they had a sensual girlish quality to them, with silk cushions, ornate candlesticks and red velvet drapes, which he had never thought he’d see in a place like Nassau.

“Mr McGraw, I was going to bring you a little gift, but then I find you here instead,” said Miss Guthrie and thrust a bottle into his hands. “I think we should talk and drink a little.”

While Miss Eleanor fetched them glasses, Thomas examined the bottle, which turned out to be a rather nice imported brandy. It had been a good long while since he’d had such a luxury.

“I trust your skills and brains to do the job I gave you,” the woman said and plunked the crystal glasses down on the coffee table between them. “But before I can trust you as a man, I must know more about you and who you are.”

She snatched the bottle from his hands, poured the brandy and continued, “You don’t seem to have a woman, and yet you don’t use whores. You don’t seem eager to make friends. And this is the first time I’ve caught you drinking without my company. I’m intrigued.”

“Then please, ask anything you want, and I will try to answer as best as I can.” It was like agreeing to a Devil’s bargain, openly offering something like that to Miss Eleanor. Thomas had heard the stories. She was one to take a mile whenever an inch was offered, one to push the people around her until they broke and then push some more.

“Mr Scott says you seem like a man who has fled here from his past rather than coming here for a better future. I’m not so sure. Which way is it, Thomas?”

Thomas leaned back on the cushions. “Mr Scott is a very perceptive man. I’m not sure if I fled to or sought out this place. I’m sure he mentioned these,” said Thomas and rolled up his shirtsleeves to reveal the scars on the insides of his lower arms. The way Miss Eleanor turned her gaze away made him think that Mr Scott hadn’t told her. Maybe it was the influence of the alcohol that made him push on, or merely his innate need to be honest. “I tried to commit suicide. They did nothing to try to save me, and yet I’m still here.”

In the silence that followed, Eleanor refilled their glasses and then asked a simple, “Why?”

“I loved and lost. The love of my life was murdered. My life was stolen from me. Sometimes I’m not entirely sure if I’m still alive or dead. I’m trapped with memories of my beloved, yet still forced to watch the world move on.” Thomas swore quietly and made a pact with himself to try to shut up his maudlin complaints. His tolerance was low, he thought, perhaps he should stop letting Miss Guthrie pour fine brandy into him. “Have you ever lost somebody dear to you, Miss Eleanor?”

“I have never lost someone in that way, I have only left them or been left. It’s only sparked anger and wish for revenge in me, never melancholy. I don’t think this place fosters that.” She laughed, short and without joy, and finished the last in her glass in one swig. “Look at Flint. When his woman was killed he burned the entirety of Charlestown to the ground. Meekness is not in the cards for people like us.”

“And yet the meek shall inherit the earth, shall they not?” said Thomas and tried to smile.

“I don’t think I want the earth, if it means I have to bear pain such as yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your comments! It seriously makes my day and I love you!


	8. Chapter 8

** CHAPTER VIII  
** **SILVER**

 It was high time for their weekly meeting, as always at seven o’clock in the evening on a Saturday. But Miss Eleanor’s doors remained shut. Thomas kept idle conversation with the one-legged sailor that Miss Guthrie had saved him from the night before. It was a slow torture, with his head still aching from the drinking he and Miss Guthrie had done the previous evening. The man kept pestering him with tedious small talk and inane questions about his person for half an hour, before Thomas had had enough and spoke to one of Miss Eleanor’s guards.

Thomas was allowed to climb the stairs and stopped outside the door to her office. He could vaguely hear that a conversation was taking place, but couldn’t make out the words. After conjuring some courage, he knocked on the door. The voices inside fell quiet, and soon the door opened.

“Miss Eleanor, I can see that you are occupied, so I thought we could reschedule our meeting for the morrow. Should I go home, Miss?”

“If you wish, but I and Captain Flint will soon be done. If you’d like, you could even join us. I’m sure he would be delighted in meeting the man who shares his opinions on Nassau’s future and who singlehandedly saved our enterprise.”

Thomas felt faint. He had grown accustomed to the abstract presence of Captain Flint, by reading and writing his name and figures in the accounts, by overhearing tall tales of his accomplishments in the streets and enduring Miss Guthrie’s high praises. But he had yet to see the man in the flesh, and now that it came to it, it was another thing indeed.

“He is only docked for a few days, so you really you should take the opportunity to meet him,” she said and gripped his arm. “Thomas, you are quite pale. Are you alright?”

“I wouldn’t wish to intrude on your meeting. I will come by tomorrow morning, if you don’t mind.”

As he was leaving, he could have sworn he heard a grim voice ask “Who was that?”

* * *

He took a detour on the way home, to get some time to compose himself. Since Captain Flint indeed was one of Miss Eleanor’s greatest friends and trade partners, Thomas would have to meet the man eventually. He would have to be civil. The stroll took him down to the harbour, where he sat for a little while, looking out over the ocean.

He imagined James sitting by his side, gazing out at the bay.

“ _Nothing happens to anybody which he is not fitted by nature to bear,_ ” he would have quoted from Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations, carefully pronouncing every word with slow precision. Thomas would inevitably meet with Captain Flint one day, and then all of his anxiety, grief and fear would be transformed into something else. He would bear it and he would adapt to it.

Thomas returned from the cries of the merchants and whores into the narrower streets, where the air was filled with quiet dust and the evening prelude of the awakening cicadas.

There was a man waiting in the shadows of the gate, when he reached home. For once he was grateful that Mr Scott had insisted that he carried a weapon, and clutched the hilt of the small blade in his pocket.

“You know, Thomas McGraw is a very peculiar choice of name,” said the man as he stepped out of his hiding place. His face was still obscured by his dark curly hair, but Thomas recognized him immediately. It was the one-legged man from the tavern. How he had known where he lived was a mystery.

“What do you mean?” Thomas hoped he didn’t sound as frightened as he was.

The man smirked and hopped closer on his crutch. It was utterly ridiculous, but Thomas was petrified by the invalid. Although he missed a limb, Thomas could see why Flint would keep him in his crew.

“Well, considering it isn’t yours,” the one-legged man retorted.

“So I may have taken another surname. I’m hardly the only man on this island that goes under another name.” Thomas ran his hands through his short hair and sighed heavily, an act of capitulation.

“Yes, I even know men who don’t have surnames at all. Or Christian names either. I know a man named Bucket, in fact. Tell me, how did you settle on yours? Was it someone you knew back in England? Was it your mother’s maiden name, or a dear old friend’s perhaps?”

Thomas ran cold. How much did this man know? Did he know of his scandalous history and family name, and was he going to try to use it against him? Thomas tried to envision turning to Miss Guthrie for help, but the thought of explaining the situation and his true identity wasn’t remotely tenable. There would be no telling what Miss Guthrie would do if she knew that he had been a figurehead for the earlier British attempt to reclaim New Providence. No, the only recourses he had were to try to fight back or worm himself out of the situation.

And so Thomas tried to school his face and spoke up with a much sharper tone than before. “You have a great interest in my name, it seems. Some might consider it rude to express such an interest before even introducing himself, wouldn’t you say?”

The man laughed. “I can see where he gets it from,” he said and reached out his free hand. “My name is John Silver.”

Thomas shook it, and said, “There, now we’re properly introduced and the mystery dispelled. Now, will you allow me to enter my own home?”

The pirate bowed ironically and hopped aside to let him past. Thomas unlocked the gate, but before he could venture into the safety of the house, his mind halted at what the man had said. He turned around and asked, “What did you say before?”

John Silver smirked again, barely visible in the darkness, and Thomas was not sure if he liked it even a little. “Oh… nothing that should be of your interest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, I swear I won't drag this out for much longer...


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter some of you have been waiting a long time for. I'm sorry for the wait, these past few months have been very eventful for me. But now please enjoy and tell me what you think!

** CHAPTER IX  
** **FLINT**

 

 _I can see where he gets it from._ That was what John Silver had said. _I can see where he gets it from._ Was it just a slip of tongue, or was the comment as calculated as the rest of the one-legged man had seemed? The words rang in Thomas’ ears as he lay sleepless in bed that night. They bothered him while he ate breakfast the following morning under Daniel’s concerned watch, and they followed him on the walk back to Miss Guthrie’s tavern.

Had the pirate misspoken on purpose, or was it just a quirk of the man’s demented mind? Did they have a mutual acquaintance that Thomas didn’t know of, and if so why hadn’t he simply told him so? Even in the freshness of the bright morning, he could feel a headache coming on.

* * *

“Good morning, Mr McGraw. Miss Guthrie isn’t ready yet, but you can wait in her office, if you’d like,” Mr Scott greeted him as he arrived at the tavern. Without being asked, the good man poured him a glass of hot tea, thrust it in Thomas’ hands and motioned at him to climb the stairs and let himself in. Thomas nodded, smiled, and did just so. The tavern was still almost empty and the guards that usually stood watch outside Miss Eleanor’s door were now sharing a breakfast whilst playing cards. Mr Scott’s trust seemed hard to come by, but Thomas had a feeling he was beginning to earn some of it.

Since it was still quite early in the morning, there was no doubt that he could be waiting for a considerable time. Thus Thomas made himself comfortable by Miss Eleanor’s desk and started to go over the papers he had brought with him. It had been a slow week, so there had been some time for him to go through the old accounts.

A Mr Andrews seemed to have tried to stow away some hundred dollars’ worth of goods by writing it down as damaged and unsellable. Then he had gone on to sell it himself in secret and to write the proceeds down in his private bankbook that he had foolishly forgotten at the Guthrie’s harbour offices when he was escorted from the premises. It had been a surprising find and an entertaining read, but now Thomas wondered how he should present it to Miss Eleanor so that the man would be caught and made to repay what was owed, but not needlessly tortured or even murdered for it.

The bells had struck nine when he heard the floorboards creak outside Miss Guthrie’s office. The steps were too heavy to be Miss Guthrie herself, but then the door was opened and shut. He heard laboured breathing and the rustling of fabric, but the visitor remained silent. Thomas looked up from his documents, but he couldn’t see the intruder from his vantage point although his presence was overwhelming in the quiet office. After a brief moment the man spoke up and stepped into sight.

“So, you are the infamous bookkeeper. Yesterday you wouldn’t meet with me, but today I must insist to meet with…”

Thomas was lucky that he was sitting down, for had he stood he would surely have fainted. How his withered heart surged at the sight! He drew a long shaky breath. Neglected, the papers slipped from his hands and spread out on the floor.

The other man staggered and steadied himself against Miss Guthrie’s armchair. He had cropped short his long red hair and grown out a dreadful beard, but Thomas would have known him anywhere at any time. Dearest James.

“Are my eyes playing a cruel trick on me, or is that you, Thomas?” The previous calculated humour had left his voice entirely, and was now all but a barely audible rasp.

Thomas laughed, breathless. “I’m quite sure it’s me.”

He stumbled across the room to embrace him, but James grabbed a tight hold on the front of his shirt before he could. Even the warmth of his hands against his chest was a gift.

“They told me you were dead,” James gritted out through clenched teeth. “Peter Ashe wrote me a letter that said you had slit your wrists and bled out. That you had not seen the outside of Bedlam a last time.”

“I tried that. But it didn’t kill me.” Tears were streaming down his face, but Thomas didn’t notice until he spoke and he heard himself cry. “They told me that you were murdered by Captain Flint.”

“I was, in a way.” Thomas’ mind halted for a moment, not quite understanding.

“Miranda? Where is Miranda?” he pressed on. James’ face grew slack at the question and his hands slipped limply from his wrinkled shirt. Thomas knees buckled and he had to steady himself against the other man, who grabbed him by the elbows to hold him up. He had to try several times before the next words could form in his mouth. “She’s gone, I take it?”

James’ grip on him tightened, and he replied with a thin voice. “She came with me, and we took care of each other. They killed her many months ago, in Charlestown. It was one of Peter Ashe’s men. I couldn’t even give her a proper funeral.”

Thomas tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it wouldn’t budge. A rational part of him had known that his wife was dead and gone or else she would have found a way to return to him in some way, but his heart had always wished it wasn’t so all the while. He could still hear her voice in his mind, clear as the day they were married.

“They shot her point-blank. Peter Ashe put me in shackles and sentenced me to death in the aftermath. But I lived. Peter. Remember good old Peter Ashe?” James spoke slowly, gritting out word after word as if they were causing him pain. “When I got out of those shackles, I killed him. I levelled the city with fire and cannons. Miranda told me to do it. It was her last wish.”

As he spoke, Thomas understood. The man in front of him was changed to channel a parcel of the horrendous creature he so dreaded. He saw Captain Flint in the flesh for the first time, and he felt utter fear. He wondered too what Miranda had become in the time they had been apart. But then James bowed his shorn head and heavy teardrops rolled from his eyes, and so the moment was gone. Thomas took his face in his hands and wiped the wetness away with his thumbs.

Their sudden closeness felt like a dream, an impossibility granted to them by God. James covered his hands with his own and leaned forward for a kiss. Now it was Thomas turn to try to slither free and grab the other man’s shirt to hold him still. It proved hard, as James in turn pressed up against him.

“Not here,” Thomas whispered and tried his best to somehow keep himself together. “Miss Guthrie is coming at any moment now.”

James laughed, on the brink of sobbing and hysteria. “Considering the quantity of women and the quality of the men Eleanor is sleeping with, I hardly think she’d judge so harshly.”

“No, but she happens to believe I’m a decent, honourable man.”

And so Thomas took his hand, and led him out the door.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Book of Ruth 1:16.


End file.
